You Call It Madness
by whiteandnerdy01
Summary: ... but I call it love." - Don Byas. A series of fluffy drabbles about my favourite Mortal Instruments pairings. Enjoy! Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns everything cool that I don't. Namely, these characters.
1. First Love

_"How on earth are you ever going to explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love?" -- _Albert Einstein

---

Clary had never been on a date before; at least, not one where the date in question arrived at your house, exchanged awkward pleasantries with your parents, and took you out for a meal where you were afraid to eat anything that might spill on your new dress. With Simon, it had been clumsy kisses and watching anime with a bag of Doritos. With Jace… Clary didn't know quite what to expect.

In fact, she was almost relieved when he turned up at Luke's door, not in Shadowhunter gear but wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, with his curly hair combed neatly back from his face. There were no visible weapons on his person - a rarity for Jace - and he was holding a bouquet of blue flowers.

"Hey," he said lazily. Only Clary, who could have traced every tiny detail of his face with her eyes closed, who knew him better than anyone else, recognized the nervous tautness of his body.

"Hey," Clary replied, her voice slightly higher than usual. It was strangely formal, this arrangement; as if they were just starting out, near-strangers.

"These are for you, by the way," Jace said suddenly, thrusting the flowers towards Clary. "I wanted to get roses, but forget-me-nots will have to do."

Clary took them, grinning shyly. "They're perfect."

She disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a vase, and hurriedly placed the forget-me-nots inside it.

"I'll sort them out later," she explained. With a hurried goodbye up the stairs to Luke and her mother, she stepped out of the door; it closed with a soft _snap_. For a moment, they stood staring at one another, each drinking in the other's appearance as they were finally allowed to.

"You look beautiful," Jace told her at last, in his customary matter-of-fact way. Clary looked down at herself: she was clad in jeans, converse boots and a plain t-shirt.

"Right."

"I'm serious."

"I know you are; I just don't agree." Clary stuck out her tongue, petulant; Jace sighed heavily.

"Shut up," he advised her, taking his hand and threading his fingers through hers.

"Gladly," she replied, and planted a lingering kiss on his cheek. Jace leaned in to return it-

"Not where my mother can see us!"

Jace chuckled and hooked his arm around her waist, and Clary couldn't think of anywhere that she would rather be.


	2. Monotone

_"That love is all there is, is all we know of love." _-- Emily Dickinson

---

"He's late."

Maryse was scowling. Alec tugged his fingers through his hair with more force than intended, wincing as his scalp protested.

"Maybe the rest of us are just early." He turned to face his mother, whose icy stare was second only to his own. She just pursed her lips and knotted her arms so tightly that it seemed unlikely she would ever untie them. Beside her was sat Alec's father; a leather-bound menu was propped up in front of him, but his eyes were flickering anxiously from side to side - and besides, the menu was upside down.

"Look," Alec hissed at his parents, levelling his gaze at them both. "Be nice, okay?"

Maryse's reply was to sniff disdainfully. Robert said nothing. Alec silently despaired.

"Why did we have to come to a mundie restaurant anyway?" Isabelle was whining from the other end of the table. She had typically ignored the 'no dates' rule and dragged Simon along - and so, of course, Jace had felt the need to bring Clary, to whom he was now tenderly feeding croutons. Alec felt somewhat like the seventh wheel - odd, because it was _his_ nineteenth birthday.

Maryse fixed her daughter with a stern look. "Because, Isabelle, we can't eat at Taki's or get a take-away every night. And anyway, as it's Alec's birthday" - this she punctuated with a pointed glance at the clock on the wall, which read quarter-past-seven - "I thought we should go somewhere nice."

Alec had omitted to mention that he would really just prefer to stay at home and eat leftover pineapple pizza.

Isabelle rolled her eyes and went back to playing footsie under the table with Simon. Alec massaged his temples fervently. Where was Magnus? Surely he wouldn't miss Alec's birthday celebration... unless it was going to be like that time when he turned up spectacularly late on New Year's Eve, which was really New Year's Day by then-

"Hello, gentlemen. Ladies."

Alec looked up and had to blink several times before he could take in what Magnus was wearing. Dark coloured jeans, a standard-issue white shirt, a sombre black tie and neatly tied-back hair? Was this some sort of joke? Alec mentally searched every part of his boyfriend's ensemble for even a trace of glitter to no avail. Was it...? Could it be...?

"I know," Magnus said under his breath, folding himself elegantly into the chair beside Alec and flashing him a grin. "Monotone."

"I never thought I'd see the day," Alec remarked.

"Hello, Magnus," Maryse interrupted coldly, handing him a menu. "How are you?"

"I'm dandy, thank you," Magnus replied. "And yourself?"

"Fine. We've been waiting to order..."

Alec glared at his mother. Magnus, however, simply smiled radiantly and winked one of his brilliantly green cat's eyes.

"Oh, yes. Dreadfully sorry... I had to go all the way across the city to find some, ah, suitable attire."

Alec felt a rush of affection for Magnus, more so because he knew that the warlock could have simply summoned some clothes with one snap of his fingers. Not when it came to Alec. Maryse looked faintly abashed, and dropped her gaze to study the menu in front of her.

"Thank you," Alec said, indicating Magnus' plain clothes.

"No problem." Magnus found Alec's hand and squeezed it.


	3. I Love You Too

**A/N: The chapter title is very unoriginal, I know, but the inspiration sort of dried up.**

**Excess of cheese in this chapter. ;) Takes place after Jocelyn leaves Amatis' house to declare her mad, passionate love for Luke.**

**---**

_"Love at first sight is easy to understand; it's when two people have been looking at each other for a lifetime that it becomes a miracle." -- _Amy Bloom

---

Jocelyn had always thought that love was something that just happened. Absolute, spontaneous… unpredictable. Like a rose among a bed of weeds. She never imagined that _effort_ was involved; that you would have to prune it, deadhead it, make sure that nothing else could touch it and poison its beauty.

Well. With Valentine, maybe it _was_ like that.

"Luke!"

Jocelyn hurried down Amatis' front steps, skidding slightly on loose gravel. Nothing about Luke's appearance could have told you that he had fought a battle less than a week ago. He looked the same as he always had: the same unruly hair, greying slightly at the temples; the same practical jeans and flannel shirt; the very same Luke that Jocelyn had looked at for years and never seemed to _see_.

"Jocelyn?" He was standing at the end of the road, squinting against the sunlight; confusion was plastered across his face. Without breaking pace, Jocelyn pelted towards him.

"Luke," she repeated as she drew up level with him, smiling slightly at the sound of his name in her mouth. "Don't go. I mean, stay. Come home with - with me and Clary."

She hardly dared to glance up and look at what was written in his eyes - Luke had always had very expressive eyes - but when she did, all she saw was bleak resolution.

"I've made my decision." He shrugged, but it was too measured, too carefully nonchalant to be genuine. "I'm staying here. We need a werewolf on the council, remember?"

Guilt was gnawing at the pit of Jocelyn's stomach - what if Amatis had been wrong? What if Luke really did want to stay in Alicante? - but she raised her gaze to his and whispered, "Please?"

Something flickered in Luke's expression.

"Why?" he asked roughly, his voice gravel underfoot. There was a certain challenge in his tone.

"What?"

"Why do you want me to come back with you?"

Jocelyn chewed her lip. _Only because you're everything I want - everything I've ever wanted, actually, but I was too blind and stupid to see it._

"Because - ah -"

_And even though you're a million times too good for me and I absolutely don't deserve you…_

"Because…"

… _I love you, Luke._

"Because I - I need you," she finished, feeling hopelessly inadequate. Luke turned his gaze to the blue, blue sky and gave a mirthless laugh.

"You've been _needing_ me," he spat, with something horribly like a sneer on his face, "for _sixteen years_. More, actually. And I've never asked anything of you."

"Luke…" Jocelyn could feel the familiar burning in the back of her throat that threatened a meltdown.

"But here you come" - Luke gestured wildly with his hands - "and ask me to give up my position in the Clave, because you _need_ me. I would have thought that you could survive on your own by now, but apparently" - here, he laughed again - "you can't. And the worst thing is" - he broke off and ran a hand savagely through his hair - "the worst thing is, I'm going to do whatever you want, because I'm completely _miserably_ in love with you."

Jocelyn stood, stunned, tears running unchecked down her face.

"I didn't realise that you felt that way," she said, her voice thick, monotonous.

Luke just glowered at her, looking as though he was ready to pick a fight with a troll just to spite her.

"I'm sorry," she tried, but his scowl simply turned up a notch in intensity.

"Is there anything else?" Luke asked tersely, folding his arms across his broad chest, and then Jocelyn lost track of what was happening other than that her arms were twined around his neck and her mouth was pressed up against his, and Luke was almost lifting her off her feet with his response. His hands were tentatively finding their way to her waist - her fingers were lacing through his hair - she was standing on tiptoe - and then it was all over too fast and Luke was gazing down at her with a mixture of hurt and longing and elation and pain.

"What was that?" he inquired, slightly breathlessly. He was still seemingly subconsciously holding onto Jocelyn's waist. "A pity kiss?"

"Did it _feel_ like a pity kiss?"

"Well… no."

"Then, if I'm guessing," Jocelyn said, letting a grin creep across her face, "it meant that I love you too."

Luke beamed all over his face.


	4. Author's Note

Hey!

I'd just like to say a large thank you for all the gorgeous feedback, and that if I didn't respond to it, I don't hate you - I'm just a lazy arse. I've decided to dissolve this story, so to say, and post each drabble separately. You never know, there may be more to come!

Thanks again,

Your loving whiteandnerdy01.


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